Marcus ignored the sick sensation that roiled about in the pit of his stomach and took another look at the gruesome crime scene photographs spread out on the table before him. Mike Corbin's mangled body lay twisted among the smoldering rubble that was once Sonny Corinthos' largest warehouse office.
Mike Corbin and Sonny Corinthos…Your father and brother, a tiny voice reminded him. Marcus scowled and banished the unwelcome reminder from his thoughts. His connection to Mike and Sonny were a technicality. As long as he did not attach any sentimentality to their relationship, the situation would remain uncomplicated.
“You've been studying those for quite awhile,” Agent Larkin remarked from behind. “Did you spot anything that might be helpful, Detective Taggert?”
Marcus shook his head. He had studied the photographs almost obsessively and still had not learned anything further. “No,” he grumbled. “I feel like I've been wasting my time. And yours.”
Agent Larkin came around and sat down on the corner of Marcus' desk. “I know you're frustrated, Detective, but I don't consider the time you took to study the photographs a waste. Your mind has burned those photos into memory.” Larkin suddenly reached into the inside pocket of his coat. “I'll tell you what,” he suggested, dialing a number, “why don't you go down to the crime scene itself and take a look. Maybe something you have seen in the photographs will click for you.”
Marcus gratefully shoved the disturbing photos back into the manila folder and stuffed it into his top desk drawer. “Maybe a change of scenery is just what I need.” He grabbed his gun and shield and nearly ran for the door.
Larkin watched the tall, muscular detective go. Quietly he continued to speak on the cellular phone to the party on the other end of the line. After several minutes, Larkin patted his coat pocket as though searching for – and not finding - a pen. He casually sat down at the detective's desk, pulled the top drawer open and brought out a blue ink pen.
Larkin reached back into Marcus' desk and this time brought forth the folder of grisly crime scene pictures. But now inside the folder was also the letter that had been delivered to Taggert.
The FBI agent scribbled something indecipherable and tiny across one corner of the file. He shook his head for the benefit of any officer watching and then rose to leave.
“Oops,” Commissioner Mac Scorpio drawled dryly as he collided with Agent Larkin. Mac reached out and plucked the folder from Larkin's resisting fingers. “Look what must have gotten into your folder by mistake!” He removed the unopened letter that had been delivered to his chief detective and gave Larkin a cold little smile. “A mistake that had better not happen again.”